16 December 2012

i just want you to stay.

hello, lovely interwebbing people.

you may have heard that i have started a new blog. this is true! i am very excited about said blog. i've felt the need for some time to get my voice out into a more public sphere (simultaneously me learning to cope with my social anxiety and my fear of success, while getting feedback from people who are less intimately connected with me than those who read this blog, here). if you are interested, and have not yet seen my new place of bloggingness, check it out at mysecretcompartments.wordpress.com.

i do not plan on shutting down this blog, though. i need to speak my mind about things i do not yet feel comfortable discussing in front of the whole world. thus, this beautiful place will stay open, until further notice.


i have an abandonment complex. i feel like the people i love always leave me -- whether by choice or by forces outside their control, they leave. as such, i am always searching for people to latch on to. some semblance of stability.

i seem to have stopped trusting people i can touch. not all of them. most of them. in this beauteous age of technology and the ability to connect with people we cannot touch, i have begun to connect with writers, and their stories.

this is why i blog.

okay, it isn't the only reason i blog. but i blog because i am inspired by others who do so. who are brave and share their stories and their wit and their sarcasm and their insights. and i blog because i feel like it is cheating to read the words of others and not be willing to share my own.


that's all i really have to say, right now. but, it is officially break (yay!) between semesters...so i anticipate some interesting stories will arise over the next three weeks. i'll keep you posted?

bye for now.

07 December 2012

once upon a december.

it is december.

december is one of my favorite months. yes, i am one of those people who has favorite (october) and least-favorite (september) months. december is dear to my heart, because so much kindness was extended to my family in december, throughout many of my childhood years. i realize the last part of that sentence may not make sense. can we roll with it?

i grew up poor...ish. we weren't terribly poor. my parents owned our house. we had two cars. i had my own bedroom. we had food and clothing and such. but my dad spent almost as much of my childhood being unemployed as he did being employed. we were...blessed? to have a great support system of family and friends and neighbors and benevolent strangers who made sure that we had food and clothing, and even toys and things for my brother(s) and myself. many christmases, my dad was out of work. december is tied to my memories of the goodness bestowed on my family by others, and the gratitude we felt toward those who were willing to help us out.

i love december.

consequently, december and the christmas-y season are connected to religion. and each year, as i grow older and my spirituality moves in directions that do not line up with the trajectory of the religion in which i was raised, not even my memories of kindness from others can fill the chasm that grows in my chest where my gratitude toward a Savior of the World once was.

december makes me sad.

i realize that when i talk to people who know about my disenchanted attitude toward both the mormon faith and organized religion as a whole, it may come across that my concerns pertain toward gender equity and the lack thereof within the church. i'm not denying that gender equity is a big concern for me within any structure that i belong to. however, it is not my only concern.

if the first presidency were to come out tomorrow and say that women can hold the priesthood and be ordained to callings like being a general authority and that we should pray to a heavenly mother and that women should choose for themselves whether marriage or motherhood or both are right for them, i wouldn't be able to drop my agnosticism and run back to the church.

it isn't just a question of whether or not i can be equal to my brothers in the eyes of the church, or of god. though those are important questions.

and so, each december, i think about what i believe in. and what i believe in no longer. and what i thought i believed, but never did. and what i thought i didn't believe, but really do. and i realize that i am not one of the "believers." i do not celebrate christmas because of my belief in jesus and what his birth meant for the world. maybe it happened like that. maybe not. maybe some catholics kidnapped a pagan holiday and held it hostage until american corporations took control of the situation and convinced us that we need to buy massive amounts of shit we don't need with money we don't have. i'm more inclined to buy into the latter story than the former (jesus was born in april, right?). but, despite my apostatic cynicism, i love christmas for what it represents in my life: good people giving of themselves to people who are in need of help.

bye for now.

04 December 2012

i know blue...only blue.

i feel so lonely.

lonely and alone are different. i know i am not alone. i am surrounded by wonderful people. i live with my grandparents, who are toeing the line between being parental and being adult housemates. they are always looking out for me. my cousins/soul-sisters keep me sane. i tell them the random mundane frustrations of my life, and they stand with me in solidarity. my brothers worry about me -- and the fact that i am on their radar is enough for me. my mother is incredible. she has my back. she gives me a shoulder to cry on. she plays the strong one so i get to be scared. because sometimes i need to not have to be the strong one. sometimes i need to just be scared. my coworkers are very sweet, keeping me laughing. my dear friend ami makes sure i know how much i'm loved, which is something that i have a tendency to forget. and my beloved bestie. that man keeps me grounded. every person needs a good anchor. so. i know i am not alone.

why, then, do i feel so lonely?

i'm going to play psychiatrist and say that this is depression eating my soul. i feel like i have so much to deal with, and that i have to do it all on my own. i don't want to burden other people...especially when those people have their own burdens to carry. i feel ugly. i feel unwanted. i feel abandoned. i feel terrified.

i feel like i need to break down and do the ugly cry on my bedroom floor, but the fucking tears won't come.

i feel like i need a release. a vacation from my life. some good karma.

i feel like people are trying to give me what they think i need. and that is very sweet of them. i appreciate the sentiment. but i feel like i'm not getting what i need, and i feel like i'm too afraid to ask for it.

how do you ask your bestie for a hug when you're non-hug people? how do you ask him to hold you so you can just cry, or catch your breath?

how do you ask your family to understand that your spirituality is moving in a different direction than they want it to? how do you explain that your sexuality isn't some college-aged act of rebellion? how do you make them understand that you will love them no matter what, and only want that same support in return?

how do you cope with the aching inside you that tells you your time is running out? whether it's terminal illness or chronic illness or mental illness or this debilitating fear of success. how do you choose to divvy up your time when you feel like you have so little of it left?

how do you move forward when you cannot see a future with you in it?

i feel so lonely.

bye for now.

29 November 2012

back again.

so, basically, i bailed on thankful november. not that i haven't been thankful for all sorts of things throughout the month. i have. i just haven't been blogging because, well, everything sort of turned to shit.

well. my health turned to shit.

so, i apologize for my absence. i don't really know what to write about. i could tell you all about how half my face is paralyzed and all i want is pain meds so i can function. or i could tell you about how my bestie is a rockstar and has been so great throughout the past few weeks of insanity. or i could tell you about how i lost twelve pounds in a week (not a good thing. even though i could lose twelve pounds four more times, and be very happy. but, twelve in one week...mostly because i don't eat...because it hurts to chew...it isn't healthy). or i could tell you about finals. or christmas shopping. or how bill o'reilly doesn't think christianity is a religion (it's a philosophy), but judaism is. or how i had two thanksgivings. or how awesome the trans-siberian orchestra concert was.

i have all kinds of things to tell you.

but, truth be told, i'm exhausted. mostly because i'm in pain, so i sleep like shit. in any regard, my brain isn't functioning in writing-mode.

so, i'm here. i'm alive-ish, and partially functional, and will try to resume contributing to the blog-o-sphere in a somewhat timely fashion. in the meantime...be good to yourself.

bye for now.

07 November 2012

vivez.

7 nov 2012:

today, i am thankful for a great many things.

today would be my father's 49th birthday. my dad died of a stroke, due to complications from surgery on a malignant brain tumor. he died twelve years, one month, a week, and five days ago. it's weird, celebrating -- or commemorating -- the birthday of someone who has died. we don't do anything crazy. my dad's parents went out to lunch with my dad's brother. i called and talked to my mother.

i live in the basement of my dad's parents' house. it used to be his grandparents house, until they died. technically, i think his brother is the one who owns the place. anyway. family home.

today, i woke up to the sounds of my grandfather playing the piano. we all play the piano, in my family. i play like my mother. i sight-read. i accompany. my grandpa plays like my dad did. he plays by ear. improvises. this morning's tune? lean on me tomorrow somewhere over the rainbow. mhm. from memory. it was beautiful.

i am thankful for my family. for music. for place.

i am thankful for fear that has controlled much of my life. not fear of death. death doesn't scare me. causing other people pain. that scares me. and i am thankful, in a strange sort of way, for that fear. because there are days where that is the only thing keeping me here.

but, today is not one of those days.

today i am grateful for life.

bye for now.

06 November 2012

love in a family dose.

6 nov 2012:

today, i am grateful for my soul-sisters. i don't have sisters, as i've stated in previous posts. i have three younger brothers whom i love with all my heart, and i am indeed grateful for all of them, and do not wish that any of them had been sisters instead of brothers. moreover, i've really liked being the only girl in the family. however, i do have a few cousins who are the closest i've gotten to having sisters. they have been with me through all the shit that has happened in my life, be it abusive relationships or mental breakdowns or pity parties or identity crises. and they've been with me through all the good, as well. each of our lifestyles is very different from the others', and it's doubtful that we would ever have become friends had we met in some other way, and not been born into the same extended family. but we're tight-knit.

for awhile, i was unsure whether or not we'd still be close, if i were to come out as bisexual, or agnostic, or what have you. much of our closeness was built around growing up in the lds faith, and also around boy trouble. but, today, i learned that they will stand by my side and support me in whatever i believe, wherever i go, whomever i'm with, always...as long as i am happy.

years of abuse have sort of tainted my ability to comprehend that. i don't know what it means to have people be there for you without any provisos. well...i didn't. it has only been within the past ten months that i have been able to begin the process of coming to terms with that. and my soul-sisters have played a huge role in that process.

so. to my lovely soul-sisters: if you're reading this, know that i love you dearly. i am so happy to have you in my life, and am excited to see how our lives play out.

love always.

bye for now.

05 November 2012

home will be where the heart is.

5 nov 2012:

i am grateful for home. i've moved like nine times in the past three-ish years. i have a LOT of crap, and each move is difficult. i never fully unpack, because i'm not sure how long i'll be staying. i've lived out of boxes and bags, mostly, since i graduated from high school. right now, i'm taking a break from unpacking. i'm in a new(ish) place, and i'm trying to find a place for everything to belong. but, there are little things that transform wherever i am into 'home,' so to speak.

i'm sort of like linus, from peanuts. i have a blanket that goes with me everyplace. okay, not everyplace. just every place where i plan on sleeping. and no matter where i move, if i can fall asleep on the bed (or couch, or floor) while curled beneath my blanket, i am okay.

i have an audrey hepburn obsession. and wherever i am, i have to put up pictures of the classiest human being to ever walk the earth. and her face brings me comfort. :) creepy? perhaps. i'm over it.

i'm learning more and more that home is a concept. a state of mind, that comes about from a feeling of security. and as i learn to be more secure with myself, home goes with me wherever i go. i love that.

bye for now.

04 November 2012

more than words.

it has only been within the past six months or so that i have been free of toxic relationships. (my relationships with my family members are slightly dysfunctional, yes, but not toxic.) i have spent most of my life bouncing from one unhealthy situation to the next, cognizant of the abuse i experienced but having been convinced i was powerless to stop it. even convinced that i deserved it.

yeah. i know. pretty messed up.

needless to say, i haven't had a whole lot of functional relationships. not with human beings. very few with structures. i developed addictions and coping mechanisms that were almost as damaging to my mind, and sometimes my body, as the abuse i experienced.

but there was language.

i sought solace in words. whether i read the words of poets and novelists and essayists and playwrights and screenwriters, or listened to the words of lyricists and songwriters, or wrote words of my own...i found an escape, and then a catharsis, in language.

4 nov 2012:

i am grateful for language.

i am grateful for the outlet that language provides me. for the opportunities afforded me to share my ideas with others via the written and spoken word. for the strength i have found within the words of others. for the situation in which i find myself, where i spend my time devoted to studying language.

i recognize that i, at times, write about off-the-wall things (kink post? what the hell was that about?) or that my posts are sometimes disjointed, or that i'm writing here more for the sake of my own sanity than for your enjoyment or displeasure. normally i would apologize for that. but i won't.

i am grateful for this space, where i am able to share the mess inside my head.

bye for now.

03 November 2012

it's just life.

i have been known to take things too seriously. imagine that. one of said things that i should be taking seriously, but i'm not, is my final paper situation for school. midterms are over (yay!) and the results are in from two-thirds of the instructors (100% in shakespeare, 94% in restoration and 18c british lit...not too shabby). now, attention must be directed toward final papers. three of them. 8-10, 10-12, and 12-15 pages in length. so...30-37 pages of composition within the next five weeks. the topics are as follows:

for shakespeare: something related to shakespeare. whether that be shakespeare himself, his plays, film or other story adaptations of his works, or works from which he borrowed ideas to create his plays. or something else that is somehow tied to shakespeare. shakespeare prison programs, for example, could work. research paper, including at least 6 outside sources. 12-15 pages. mla format. due 29 nov.

for contemporary american lit: something related to issues pertaining to contemporary america, that somehow ties back to themes or characters or authors studied and discussed throughout the semester. must make an original contribution to the academic discussion on chosen topic. 8-10 pages. due 11 dec.

for restoration and 18c brit lit: topic unknown. page requirement 10-12 pages. proposal due 19 nov. final paper due 7 dec.

so, naturally, i should start in chronological order. write a proposal for rest/18c. write shakespeare paper. write rest/18c paper. write contemp american paper.

nope. my brain is only functioning in contemp american mode. great stuff.

no big deal. it's just life. school. my future.

bye for now.

i want to thank you.

so...i've noticed that people are doing a thankful november thing. and...i know i'm a latecomer to the game, but i want to join the party. so. i'm playing catch-up. but. here we go:

01 november 2012:

i am thankful for my house. the house in which i grew up, and the house out of which i am currently getting ready to move. again. any time my world has fallen apart, i have put it back together within these walls. not always by myself, but always here. at home. i'm having a difficult time with this move. not because i'm not psyched to have a bed and to not have my dresser in the dining room, but because i am so damned attached to this house. it brings me peace. comfort. security. and for that, i will always be grateful.

02 november 2012:

i am thankful for bras. so. i know that those of you who read this blog probably know me in non-blog-world, as a human being. as such, you've met the girls. the girls are great. they're fun to squeeze and surprisingly perky for their size and almost symmetrical and the shade of porcelain i wish covered the rest of my body. despite the horrors they've been put through at the hands of other people (from boyfriends to girlfriends to serial gropers on the bus to the imagined mastectomies shot in their direction from disapproving relatives), the girls have been very, very good to me. in turn, i have tried my darnedest to be good to them. this includes cladding them in cute bras. bras that help keep them healthy, perky, and shapely, for longer. and if the day ever comes that the girls get sick, and have to be detached from me (it's a terrible thought, but there are familial precedents to consider), i will be grateful for bras and their ability to conceal this transition from the rest of the world, while i adjust. weird, i know. roll with it.

03 november 2012:

i am grateful for shaving gel. i spent the first decade of my shaving adventures not using shaving gel. i would shave dry, more often than not. it would take me over a year to go through a can of shaving gel. alas, as i've gotten older and my anxiety has gotten more out of hand, my skin has become more sensitive. i love shaving. shaving is a therapeutic ritual, for me. and shaving gel has made it possible for that ritual to continue, as opposed to shaving becoming this terrible ordeal. now, if you'll excuse me, i'm off to take a shower. :)

more thankfulness to come, as november goes on. much love and good karma in your direction(s).

bye for now.

29 October 2012

my confession.

things that exacerbate my anxiety:

  • small children
  • church
  • uncooperative uteri
  • talking about money
  • not being able to split myself in two, so that i can take 24 credits next semester
things that calm me down:
  • josh groban
  • eating bananas
  • writing out my life on post-it notes
  • pictures of cute cats
  • twirling the hair at the nape of my neck
i'm stressed. i'm making lists, to stave off:
  • migraines
  • panic attacks
  • insomnia
  • breakouts
  • the rebellion of my digestive tract against the rest of my body.
breathing. in. out. in. out.

bye for now.

19 October 2012

you're beautiful, that's for sure.

i want to talk to you about body positivity.

before you scoff and remind me that i am the LAST person to be talking about loving oneself...

no. go ahead. scoff. i know how terrible i am to myself. i know how hypocritical it is of me to sit here and write about how people need to love their bodies. get over it.


my body has been the cause of a lot of grief, throughout my lifetime. something about my physical being has never been "enough." i spent my early childhood being teased because of my hands and ears. i spent late elementary school being bullied because i had started puberty before anyone else. i spent junior high listening to girls tell me about how boys want to kiss them and not me because i'm just not pretty. i spent high school falling in love with people who thought i was such a good friend, but not attractive enough to warrant being anything other than "just friends." and i've spent most of my college life hiding my insecurities behind over-the-top flirtations with anyone who will pay me the smallest bit of attention. i've been in three sexually -- and sometimes physically -- abusive relationships, within the past six years.

my body has been the source of many tears, much blood, and a whole lot of sweat, through no fault of her own. but, i have taken out my anger and hurt and frustration on her, nonetheless.

i've put her through a pill-popping addiction, eating disorders, cutting, burning, sleep deprivation, and a whole lot of hate speech (for lack of a better term).

i've learned that the things that are of value, about me, are mental. not even mental. intellectual. that i am smart, and that is what i must depend on and play up. and i'm not knocking my smartness. i appreciate my mental/intellectual capabilities. but i have learned to abhor my body through focusing on my mind.

and it needs to stop.


so. this is my commitment to changing the way i think about my body. to learning to love my body.

here we go.

bye for now.

03 October 2012

oh, so pretty.

the problem with pretty:

so, once upon a time, i had a favorite song. this song was entitled, "not a pretty girl." the lyrics of this song inspired me to begin this blog. (yay!) i have never been a pretty girl, and i, at the time, wanted to prove that i am "more" than that. that, somehow, being pretty is what happens when you lack brains and ambition.

there are so many problems with that tenet of thought. but, more on that at another point in time.

maybe it's not because i'm not pretty, but because i'm crazy. but, i like to operate under the assumption that most people don't know that i'm broken and damaged (by societal standards).

i am smart. i am driven, when i don't let my anxiety control my life. these are qualities that i look for in a partner, and qualities that i hope others value in me.

i am also single.

i used to think that if i were smart and driven, it would be enough for someone to love me. i know i'm leaving myself wide open to a barrage of psychoanalysis about my abandonment issues and my codependency issues. my need to be needed and my desire to be loved. but, don't tell me that you don't want those things, too. or, if you are fortunate enough to have those things, that you wouldn't like to keep them.

anyway. i am full of tangents and digressions today, people. my apologies.

pretty. it's a problem.

it's a problem when you like someone and you think you would have a fighting chance, if only you were pretty.

i get resentful. i don't play well with other women, unless there is some sort of attraction between us. pretty girls are nice to look at, but i don't like them. they make my life miserable, because people would rather be with them than with me.

glancing over the part where i talk about how i'm a good girlfriend...i'm always the friend.

and not even the friend. just the friend. i wouldn't mind being the friend so much, if it didn't sound like a punishment. "oh, we're just friends." as if relationships are measure by the continuum exhibited below:

enemies-->strangers-->acquaintances-->just friends-->friends with benefits-->romantic partners-->exes

i don't know about you, but i put a lot of time and energy into any relationship. my relationship with my best friend is one such relationship. to use the word "just" to describe any aspect of our relationship would be, in my opinion, an insult. he is not just anything, to me. he is my friend. my nearest and dearest friend. i do not value his friendship less because we don't bang like jungle monkeys. i hope that he would say the same about me.

but i still have this pretty little chip on my shoulder. why does pretty matter so much? i feel like i do a pretty good job of caring about more than someone's aesthetic appeal. why am i not on the receiving end of this?

well, i'm going to go channel my bitterness and sexual frustration into some baking.

bye for now.

17 September 2012

all the torment and the pain.

if you've ever struggled with depression, you know that the bad times come in bouts. and i think i'm sinking into one of those bouts, at the moment.

i'm so confused.

i had everything figured out, not too long ago. my life had direction. i had a little bit of confidence, for the first time in my existence. i had balance.

that was a short-lived experience, and now i feel so, so lost. i'm second-guessing everything. it's becoming more and more difficult for me to appear as a normal person around other people. any shard of self-confidence i had before has been obliterated. and i'm slipping back into my old habits of fixating on things. no more balance.

and i feel so, so alone.

i have the privilege of being surrounded by some wonderful people. but there are some things you cannot bring yourself to say out loud. so, instead, it festers inside your brain. and, in effect, sequesters you from the people with whom you interact. i share experiences with the people around me, but i'm simultaneously experiencing a completely separate reality. one i cannot share with others.

does anyone notice? when i'm with people, can they tell that i'm not completely with them? that part of me is still stuck inside my brain, trapped in a very dark and very scary place? do people care?

i don't know how to deal with any of this.

i don't know what to do.

help.

bye for now.

23 August 2012

measure in love.

i know it has been awhile. this summer has been a whirlwind of emotion and experimentation, and is starting to wind down. school begins on monday (today is thursday...technically). for the past four years, the start of a new school year has been met with mixed feelings. this year is no different. i would like to tell you the story of kiefer. the boy whose life changed mine. for the better.


kiefer.

kiefer and i met in junior high. it was 8th grade -- the worst year of my life, as per usual for most teenagers. i had just spent months in a state of self-destruction and suicidal depression. my best friends had been dating one another, and when they broke up, they both abandoned me. so. i was lonely. kiefer was a bad boy. you know the type. long hair. knows the names of metal bands. sometimes uses the word "porn" in mixed company. a real hell-raiser. we were in the school play, together. the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. that's right. one of those artsy bad boys. every teenage girl's dream, am i right?

i fell in love with kiefer over the course of the next year. he became my best friend. he became my first love. he became the boy i first kissed. he became a lot of "firsts." and so much more. and it was with him that i spent the most fantastic summer of my life.

i used to sneak into the hallway after my mom had gone to bed, and call kiefer. we'd talk for hours. about everything. about religion (kiefer was the first to introduce me to non-Christian religious thought. wicca. vampirism. buddhism. and more.), politics, ten-year-plans, future children, all the places we would travel together -- once we had the dough to peace out from the happy-valley-hell-hole. some nights were really difficult to get through, and i'd whisper encouraging words with tears streaming down my face while he gave himself a verbal beating for one stupid mistake or another. other nights, he'd tell me all the things he loved about me, and i'd tell him all the things i loved about him. my favorite nights, i'd just lie there and listen to his breathing. i'd stay on the line for an hour after he'd fallen asleep with the phone pressed to his face, and try to sync my respiratory pattern with his. some days, i'd wake up to a poem he'd sent me in an email. other days, he'd come over early before play rehearsal (west side story), and he'd hold me in his arms while we lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. my favorite days, we'd leave rehearsal early and just go on walks. once, such a walk led to a church parking lot, where kiefer asked me to dance. he put one of his earbuds in my ear, and the other in his. he held me close, and we danced to poison's "every rose has its thorn," followed by buckcherry's "sorry." those songs defined mine and kiefer's relationship. it was beautiful. and painful. the timing was off, and neither one of us had the courage to do anything about it. so, as the summer wound down into fall and we started high school, the dancing and the five-hour phone calls and the leisurely strolls about town all stopped. i still loved him. i'd like to believe he still loved me. but life is complicated, sometimes, and we decide to put a good thing on hold for one reason, or another. our good thing never really picked up again.

the next summer was kiefer and harmony's summer. harmony and i had been friends since the c.s. lewis production of junior high. she was snarky and beautiful and captivating for reasons i cannot explain. she was the one dating kiefer when he died.

on august 24, 2007, kiefer was driving to school and overcorrected just a few blocks away from his house. he drove into a tree, and was killed on impact. his younger brother was in the car, and walked away with a few scratches.

it was the first friday of our junior year of high school. kiefer had been in a darkish place for a long time, and was just pulling through that. he was happy. i was happy for him, although sad and hurt that it was harmony, and not me, that was his partner-in-crime. but they were happy, together. and i was happy for them.

of course, it would've been the perfect place to insert a "happily ever after" into kiefer's story. a superb debater and actor, a brilliant student who was just beginning to slough off his lazy tendencies, an ideal friend, an addicting laugh, a charismatic personality, a loving relationship. maybe it was. a happily ever after, that is. maybe it's better that he died when things were looking up, rather than when his heart was rent in two. but happily ever after or not, kiefer's story ended abruptly, two weeks before his 17th birthday.

i'll skip over some of the chapters. the part about the funeral, and the part where harmony lived with me for awhile, and the part where i sank back into my self-destructive tendencies and suicidal depression.

but not the part where i think about him every day.

some nights, i can't sleep because i'm so engrossed in thinking about the things kiefer would be doing now, five years later. other nights, i wake up with my lungs screaming for air under the weight of his absence. my favorite nights, i write him letters, telling him how much i miss him, and how greatly he has impacted my life. some days, i drive around to our favorite places. other days, i think about how grateful i am to have had kiefer in my life, even for a short time. my favorite days, i close my eyes and sit quietly, and try to remember his laugh. his smile. the smell of his clothes. the smoothness of his skin. the way his whole body shook when he tried to keep a straight face. the way he yelled my name down the hall when he saw me. the security i felt when he'd wrap his arms around me, and hold me as though he never planned on letting go.

during my kiefer summer, my friends and i did an awful lot of watching rent. as in, the movie-musical. we all had characters. kiefer was angel. the theme of "no day but today" that permeates the lyrics of rent has become a symbol of kiefer, for myself and my friends from my kiefer summer.

no day but today.


i will never know if kiefer would've had as profound an impact on my life, if he hadn't died, as he has had in death.

i don't know if kiefer is in some better, heavenly place, singing off-key in a choir of angels.

i do know that, five years later, kiefer remains a mentor. an example of how to love people. how to love life.

some nights, i lie in bed and listen to my own breathing, the way i used to listen to his. a lost lullaby, i wish i could resurrect.

it doesn't have the same calming effect, listening to my own breathing, as it did listening to his. it does make me ponder how i use my breaths. how my breath could stop at any moment, and my life could end.

if i died tomorrow, would i have made as great an impact on the people in my life as kiefer made upon those in his?

i don't know. and i hope we don't have to find out. i plan on living for quite some time. my paranoid, hyperattentive self would like to stick around. i have things to do. places to see. people to meet. stories to share.

like the story of the boy who taught me to see the world with both eyes open. to be quiet, sometimes, and just listen. to hold on to the people who matter to you. to dream big. to love.


there's only now.
there's only here.
give in to love, or live in fear.

no other path.
no other way.
no day but today.

no day but today.


love you, kiefer. miss you.

bye for now.

23 July 2012

in the air tonight.

i just created the most lovely pandora radio station, and i had to tell someone.

i have this station called "dissolved girl radio." it's titled after my favorite massive attack song. the station was initially my trip-hop station. i love me some trip-hop. now, however, it is a mixture of trip-hop, industrial metal, and various bits of electronica and indie rock. at least, that's what we hope it'll be. it is comprised of song seeds, rather than artist seeds. so, we'll see how it turns out. :)

(for those of you who may not know how pandora works...you select artists or songs within the music genome project to act as "seeds" for your station. pandora then selects songs and artists that exemplify the same musical attributes as the seeds you selected, and plays them on your station. most of my pandora stations have 4 or 5 song or artist seeds. my dissolved girl station has 45 song seeds.)

the only issue is, it'll take awhile for all my thumbing-up and thumbing-down of songs to mold my creation into the masterpiece i intended it to be. so, that means suffering through a lot of what i didn't intend to be on the station.

but. once school starts, at the end of august, i will have created a masterpiece. a masterpiece that i can shuffle with my john williams or rachmaninoff or jacqueline du pre station to create the perfect soundtrack for a study session. it's all very exciting.

if you would like to check out my beautiful station, let me know and i will share it with you. :)

bye for now.

11 July 2012

take all of me.

this is my personal story about organ donation.

my dad died of a stroke, due to complications from a surgery to remove a massive cancerous brain tumor from inside his skull. when i say massive, i mean the size of three adult fists. massive. anyway. my dad was a registered organ donor, and my mother -- also a registered donor -- made the decision to comply with his wishes to be such. they took his kidneys, heart, liver and pancreas. they found matches for each, minus the pancreas.

at the time, i took solace in knowing that my dad's death had saved the lives of four other people.

almost twelve years later, that hasn't changed.

when i die, i want every part of my body that can be used, to be used. i'm dead. i have no need for internal organs. for corneas. for muscle. for bones. for limbs. no need, whatsoever. whatever cannot be used can be cremated. or, my whole body can be donated to science -- to a medical school. so that doctors-to-be can practice their procedures on me, rather than on living people.

i'm dead. i am not my body. i have no need for corneas. for kidneys. for lungs. for skin. no need. but, if there is a person out there who is in need of such things, i want to help. in life, all i want is to positively impact the lives of those within my sphere of influence. if, in death, i am able to continue helping? to add some time to the life of someone else's loved one? then i want to do so.

i, personally, don't understand why someone -- outside of religious restrictions -- would refuse to let their death bring life to others. i think there are many misconceptions about organ donation. about doctors not trying their hardest to keep you alive, or about not being able to have an open casket funeral, or about eligibility requirements. which is why i think organ donation should be an opt-out system, instead of an opt-in system. however, that is another discussion, entirely. but. if you are not an organ donor, and have no desire to be, please. explain to me your thought process. you are dead. you are not using your organs. why not give them to someone else? why not?

there is a man named barney who has my dad's kidney. he has a number of grandchildren. he and his wife, francie, recently moved to minnesota -- where they are able to do all the snowmobiling they want. each christmas, my family receives a christmas card from francie, updating us on barney's condition. he's healthy. he's happy. he has been able to see his grandchildren grow. and he has time left. time to golf. time to snowmobile. time to play with his loved ones. time to share his wisdom with them. to help them become the types of people who create a better world than the one they were given. all this, because of a kidney.

and there are three other people who have been given the same opportunity. because of one man.

give the gift of life. register to be an organ donor.

bye for now.

04 July 2012

purple mountain majesties.

happy birthday, america!

i don't believe in patriotism. you have no control over where you are born, so it makes no sense to me to be proud of it. you can like your country of origin. you can be proud of how where you have lived has made you into the person you are today. but to have this unwavering, my-country-can-do-no-wrong-and-is-blessed-and-promised-above-all-other-countries sort of loyalty is dangerous. it leads to things like nationalism. which is a symptom of fascism. and the basis of imperialism. really bad stuff.

anyway. i'm not a patriot. i love america's story -- how she got started. i think the story of the american revolution is beautiful. i'm a romantic. i like stories where the underdog overthrows the nasty imperial powers placed upon her. then america became the biggest imperial power in the history of the world, because the us dollar rules the world economy...but, the humble beginnings story? sweet. brings tears to my eyes, sometimes.

i love the ideals america was built upon -- namely, the first amendment (freedom of speech, press, religion, assembly, and petitioning the government for a redress of grievances) and equal representation under the law. when july 4th comes around, each year, it is those ideals i celebrate.

so, in celebration, i have put together a Happy Birthday, America! playlist. :) hooray. here it be:


1812 overture -- tchaikovsky (they play this in washington d.c. as the fireworks go off behind the washington monument. powerful spectacle.)






fanfare for the common man -- aaron copland (pretty powerful piece of music. american composer. this is what people think america is supposed to be. the place where the "common" man may thrive...i hope that some day, that will be true.)  





rhapsody in blue -- george gershwin (american composer. snapshot of new york in the 1920s...one of my favorite eras. also the best scene in fantasia 2000.)  






stars and stripes forever -- john philip sousa (the great american composer of marches. played by marching bands across the country, on this day, every year.)  






america the beautiful -- ray charles (i love ray. this is my favorite rendition of this song. which is my favorite "patriotic" song.)






what a wonderful world -- louis armstrong (just seems appropriate to end with a global perspective.)




and...there you have it. happy birthday, america. here's to a celebration filled with pyrotechnics, good music, and barbecues! :)


bye for now.

27 June 2012

untitled.

"today, if you become frightened -- instead, become inspired." -- grey's anatomy

01 June 2012

lovin', touchin', squeezin'.

i make playlists when i get...angry, sad, happy, anxious. and other, more complicated emotions and combinations thereof. this is my current playlist:

  1. hiding my heart -- brandi carlile (i wish i could lay down beside you when the day is done, and wake up to your face against the morning sun.)
  2. i want to hold your hand -- t.v. carpio, cover of the beatles (yeah, you got that something, i think you'll understand.)
  3. can't take my eyes off of you -- lauryn hill (the sight of you makes me weak. there are no words left to speak.)
  4. things i'll never say -- avril lavigne (i wanna blow you away. be with you every night.)
  5. all i want -- jay brannan, cover of joni mitchell (do you wanna dance with me, baby? wanna take a chance of maybe finding some sweet romance with me baby?)
  6. change the world -- eric clapton (you would think my love was really something good, baby, if i could change the world.)
  7. tell me -- boston (i don't really know what to say. i don't know how, but i could learn to pray if praying makes you hear me.) 
  8. somebody to love -- queen (can anybody find me somebody to love?)
  9. my heart with you -- the rescues (you're etched upon my mind.)
  10. this bouquet -- ani difranco (we both have gardens of songs, and maybe it's okay that i'm speechless because i picked you this bouquet.)
this is my unrequited love playlist. yes, yes i know that it is slightly pathetic. by slightly, i mean undoubtedly. it isn't directed at any particular individual. just the world, in general. but. these are currently the songs that...speak to me? describe me? the girl who can't get up the courage to say something to...anyone. who admires from afar and hopes and dreams but never does anything about it. and then does a little fantasizing. and it's great. and then is reminded of the fact that she's alone. and then goes back to admiring silently. such is my life.

but, it's okay. it isn't a terrible life. i am capable of loving another human being. it could be worse. :)

bye for now.

29 May 2012

i need you, baby.

once upon a time, there lived a person with an addictive personality. she was reincarnated into my body.

i have an addictive personality. i've had problems with addiction to...some things we won't get into.

now, i'm going to admit that i have never consumed alcohol. okay...one swig of a roommate's raspberry smirnoff ice. once.

i've also never smoked. anything.

instead, i drink virgin daquiris and inhale smoke secondhand while hanging with drunkards and smokers. well, i used to. now i just hang out with my family. they drink dr. pepper and don't smoke anything.

and, chances are that i never will. probably a good thing, considering that smoking causes cancer and other things, while drinking causes liver failure and other things. having an addictive personality, i can't risk just trying it once. i can't drink socially, because i'm most likely a raging alcoholic. i can't smoke to ease my anxiety, because i'm a chain smoker in the making.

and addiction runs in my family. the family members i am close to look very put together, but have sublimated their addictive tendencies into religious fervor. that and oxycontin.

anyway. i'm sitting here. drinking my version of a tequila sunrise. (orange juice, grenadine, with ginger ale instead of alcohol, and a twist of lime.) thinking about how strange it is, to want so desperately to try things that are harmful.

but sitting on a yacht, mango mojito in hand, sure does sound delightful.

bye for now.

25 May 2012

unwritten.

i've been doing some writing lately.

pen and paper. word documents. things like that.

everything i write blows chunks. seriously. it's all terrible. which is such a shame...because the ideas are in my head. they're coherent. they flow beautifully. but, the second i attempt to siphon ideas from my head into written form, they shrivel. we're talking raisins, here. plump, juicy grapes in my brain, and shriveled, sorry excuses for verbiage on paper.

i speak better than i write. it's a shame, because my ideas are best when inside my brain. my speech is hasty and anxious, at best. tangental. disjointed. but, occasionally, there are short bursts of eloquence or wit.

which is more than i can say for my writing.

when i was little, i wanted to write a book. i came up with pseudonyms while daydreaming through math. isabel-this, jo-that, kris-someone, liese-someone-else...the list continues. i would write about my adventures as a second-grader. though some of the names may need to be changed -- for the sake of privacy and/or safety -- all events therein would be true. real. even as a seven-year-old, i wanted to write about the people in my life. then, it was pretending to be on yoshi island or opening a worm hospital after rainstorms or being in love with a person i couldn't have. now, it's the same thing. except, for many years now, yoshi island has been grad school and opening a worm hospital has been moving from place to place.

i have so much i'd like to say. and it isn't that i want to write because i need everyone to know all the intimate details of my life. i just want it out there. out of my head.

maybe it isn't supposed to be. maybe the universe wants it to stay in my head...wants me to stay in my head.

bye for now.

21 May 2012

please don't stop the music.

why is it that animated movies have such great soundtracks? here are some of my favorites:

  • anastasia
  • tarzan
  • mulan
  • hercules
  • hunchback of notre dame
i also love the scores of various movies...like the incredibles, or up.

i was listening to opera, earlier this morning. okay, at like 3:45 am. i was listening to la boheme. it's my favorite opera, right now. i think about opera, and about movie soundtracks, and about great musicians and songwriters, and can't even imagine having those abilities. to piece together little black dots on lines and create a masterpiece. to be an innovator. music is such an important part of my life. sometimes, i take time to just sit and revel in its beauty. whether that's while listening to chopin or clapton, it doesn't matter.

i apologize for my blogging absence. i've been doing some...soul-searching, i guess.

bye for now.

14 May 2012

i'd like to keep my cheeks dry today.

i can't sleep.

i can't stop crying.

please. someone. just, tell me that it's going to be all right.

just explain to me why things have turned out this way.

tell me things are going to get better.

promise me.

and when you can't keep that promise, please. don't abandon me.

don't abandon me.

11 May 2012

sometimes.

sometimes, bad things happen. sometimes, bad things are caused by people.

sometimes, we can't determine whether people who cause bad things are actually bad people. but, sometimes, it doesn't matter if they're bad people or not. their status as good or evil is irrelevant. they caused you pain, and therefore they will forever remain, for you, enshrouded in a blanket of...bad. dark. scary.

sometimes, these people go away for a time. and then, sometimes, they come back.

sometimes it is all you can do to hold yourself together. sometimes, you relive the bad when the thought crosses your mind that you may, one day, cross paths with this person once again.

sometimes this thought makes you cry. and unable to sleep. and then you blog about it at 5:30 in the morning.

sometimes you need someone to tell you that it is going to be okay, when you have no idea how anything could ever be 'okay' again.

sometimes, you become that person, telling yourself that it will be okay when you have no idea how it ever could be. 'okay,' that is.

sometimes, your only other choice is to give up. but you aren't ready to give up. so you tell yourself, 'it will be okay.'

and then, sometimes, you go to sleep. and dream of a life in which it is. 'okay.'

bye for now.

09 May 2012

my favorite things.

i have vices. everybody has vices.

one of these vices of mine is brown and bubbly and is best when it comes in a can.

i am addicted to dr. pepper.

this addiction has been made evident over the past ten days, wherein i have been staying at my mom's house. my mom also has a dr. pepper addiction. as such, there is always dr. pepper in her pantry. i wake up, walk to the pantry, open a can, take a sip, sigh with relief, and go about my day. before work, i grab a can, open, sip, sigh, and make my way to work. after work, i repeat the cycle. then i sleep, wake up, and start all over.

i measure my life in cans of dr. pepper.

what's your vice?

bye for now.

08 May 2012

firework.

do you ever reach a point in your life where you have so much to say to a person that you risk verbally vomiting all over them any time you open your mouth to speak in their presence?

so much to say. so much to say.

and i can't say any of it.

this is what i do when i'm not sleeping. i think about all the things i want to say to people. when i am sleeping, i'm dreaming about these things.

one day i'm going to explode. it cannot be predicted whether this explosion will result in happiness or misery, though my bet is on misery. but it's nice to hope for it to be happiness.

bye for now.

06 May 2012

somebody, save my life.

i...have a problem.

this particular problem is a mixture of social anxiety, paranoia, and heightened fear of both success and failure.

example: i have impulses that are difficult to control. sometimes these impulses are wanting to smoke. sometimes they are wanting a dr. pepper. regardless of the impulse, whether or not i act on them is determined by how those around me will react to me acting on said impulse. i can drink a can of dr. pepper with little to no ridicule from those around me. if i say the word, "cigarette," i get looks of disappointment, followed by lectures. so, whether or not i do things is based on how others will react. if i can explain what i've done to others without somehow disappointing them. or if i can hide what i've done, altogether.

i was seeing a therapist, about two months ago. i saw said therapist four times, i believe. maybe only three. either way, it isn't important. was is important, is that i stopped. i stopped, because it became increasingly more difficult to explain to other people what i was doing for the three hours it took me to ride the bus to the office, have my session, and ride the bus home. i panicked about what other people would think, and i stopped going.

this is bad, because i really do need help. and the longer i wait to get help, the worse things get. the more wall off myself from the rest of the world, and retreat inside my head (which, as i've mentioned before, is not a good place to be). case in point, i've been staying at my mom's for a week, now. it's great. i get to spend most of my day in a familiar space, without having to interact with anyone i don't know. the people with whom i do interact are some of the only people i still feel safe around. it's a great set-up. minus the fact that i'm avoiding interacting with anyone i don't feel comfortable around. though, i must admit, i do enjoy the baking materials at my disposal.

anywho. i was supposed to start therapy again, friday. i didn't go, because i couldn't figure out a way to explain to my brother why i needed to borrow the car, without coming clean. and...my brother isn't the type to be cool with therapy. doctors, okay. prescriptions...acceptable. therapy? get over it. at least, that's what i perceive. i could be completely wrong. but, i don't want to find out, either way. i'm terrified. so. i didn't go to my appointment. i actually slept through my alarm, and didn't call to cancel. i should've, but i didn't. now, i need to call and reschedule my appointment. however, i'm terrified of calling, and having to explain why i missed my appointment on friday. my heart beat is increasing, just thinking about it. not in a good way.

so, yeah. i'm stuck. i'm scared out of my mind, and i know i can't get through this on my own, but i'm both too proud and too terrified to ask for and seek out the help i need. lovely, isn't it. if you have any questions, comments, suggestions, sarcasm...they'd be greatly appreciated.

bye for now.

05 May 2012

lost myself in a familiar song.

so. this morning, i was sleeping. soundly. on my mother's couch. then, my mother decided it was prudent to wake me up. it was...10:30. i went to sleep around...4:30. i don't know about you, but unless there is an essay involved, my days of surviving on six or fewer hours of sleep are over.

so. this morning, as my mother was getting ready, i walked around the house belting "hey jude."

my mom dislikes the beatles.

she got upset.

i told her that if she doesn't want me to retaliate, she shouldn't wake me up by opening the blinds and letting the sun shine directly in my face before 11 in the morning. at the earliest.

so. word to the wise. firstly, don't wake me up before 11. it's actually wiser if you don't wake me up before 1, but i know that sometimes this sin't possible. secondly, don't make known your immense distaste for bands whose songs i may know. or, i will use that against you.

thirdly, have a pleasant weekend. :)

bye for now.

01 May 2012

four in the morning and the tears are pouring.

embarking upon a new phase of life...if only for a little while.

and it's slightly terrifying. i hate change.

and here i am, at four in the morning.

i can't sleep. the weather is acting up. i'm stuck in my head, thinking about how different the next four months of my life are going to be, compared to the last twenty.

and i shouldn't be crying. i'm not angry. i'm not upset. i'm a little frightened, but i will be okay.

i'm not losing anyone.

i had a dream, one night last week, that i was.

but i'm not.

so i should be fine.

i'm not, currently.

but i will be, i guess.

there aren't many other options to be had. pout. sulk. begrudge. get over it.

take the opportunity to explore a new phase. i think that's the direction i will be heading.

anyway. here goes another attempt to sleep.

bye for now.

30 April 2012

save me from the nothing i've become.

last thoughts, and then i will stop writing and go sleep. i recently posted about self-harm. and my relation to it. this post is sort of in conjunction with that one.

i don't know how many of you have ever had suicidal thoughts. i, personally, think that everyone wonders about what it'd be like to die, or finds themselves pondering the fragility of life. however, while some of us wonder and ponder because these are interesting philosophical questions, others of us wonder and ponder because we're considering.

i have been in that place. it is a dark, scary, lonely place. it hasn't been very long since i was last in that place, and i will probably find myself in that place once again, at some point.

there was a girl who goes to school with my brother that tried to commit suicide. while at school.

my mom's friend teaches at said school. she said that this girl is one of those types who 'does whatever to get attention. after all, if you really want to die, you're not going to kill yourself at a school.'

this statement upset me.

yes, oftentimes suicide attempts are cries for help. if people are completely sure about suicide, they can find ways to make sure their 'attempt' is successful. yes, sometimes people want attention. sometimes people want attention because they are in pain. because their world is in shambles, and they want someone to notice that everything is not okay.

my attempts have been such. cries for help. now, i tell other people when i'm having suicidal thoughts. yes, this is a cry for help. yes, this is because i want attention. but i want attention because i feel like i'm drowning. and it'd be great if someone would notice, and help me out of the water before it's too late. i get stuck inside my head, thinking about how the only escape is to end my life. sometimes, i can't get out of that place on my own.

this having been said. if someone talks to you and what they are saying sounds suspiciously like contemplating suicide, please. reach out to them. you don't have to know what to say. they don't always know what they want you to say. but, let them know they're not alone. let them know that you believe their life is worthwhile. that they mean something to someone. if someone threatens to commit suicide, please. tell someone else. preferably someone who can help. thirdly, don't dismiss talk of suicide as a 'cry for attention.' yes. yes, it probably is a cry for attention. but, it is a cry that should be recognized, and answered.

people need people. sometimes people decide they want to die because they feel like they are no longer needed, or noticed. sometimes people decide they want to die because they feel worthless. whatever the reason, reach out to these people.

bye for now.

yes, i'm a dreamer.

i apologize for the increased frequency of the blog posts. i have a lot on my mind. also, beware. this is a long post.

i just finished watching contagion. as a lover of dystopian fiction and conspiracy theory documentaries, films about epidemics and genetic engineering appeal to me as including a sort of hybrid of the two.  i'm always intrigued by the way these sorts of films depict human nature. greedy. violent.

i grew up listening to rhetoric, from the people who were supposed to be my protectors and teachers, that the world is a frightening place. evil, even. humans are, by nature, destructive and self-serving. don't trust them. trust god. (i have a suspicion that my frequent exposure to this rhetoric has contributed to my trust issues, as well as my paranoia and anxiety disorder. not caused them, per se, but exacerbated my predisposition toward them.) so, i attempted. i attempted to not trust the words of other human beings.

to be honest, i think that advice backfired, in the eyes of my mother. i learned to not take people at their word, but to make inquiries -- and to not stop until i was satisfied with the answers i received. this included those who claimed to speak for god. if i wasn't satisfied with answers, the inquiries weren't over. thus, here i am. always questioning the methods, motivations, necessity and, occasionally, existence of authority. in many forms.

through this process, i developed my own theories about the world. i became more paranoid and distrustful of authority. i became unwilling to accept "because i said so," or, "it just is," as satisfactory responses to my questions. the legitimacy of authority, both conceptual and incarnate, unraveled within my brain. whether it was religion, government, economics, or human nature, i began to believe that no system was absolute. some weren't even necessary. many systems of power and/or control became illusory, to me.

**there are people far smarter and more eloquent than myself who have thought a lot longer and deeper on these ideas. if you are interested, i recommend: foucault's essay, "panopticism," which can be found in his book discipline and punish: the birth of the prison. the whole book is great, as well; chomsky's manufacturing consent; freud's civilization and its discontents. for starters. i have all three. so, if you're ever in the neighborhood, let me know and i'll lend you my copy/copies. anywho.**

i talk about this all the time. money isn't real. 'human nature' is a social construct. and so on. these thoughts resurface when i watch apocalyptic-ish films. when things go wrong, the masses loot. they riot. they become violent and greedy. now, i have no doubt that this would be the result if the same circumstances that are depicted in the film were to arise in real life, right now. however, this is not because of 'human nature.' in my most humble opinion.

see. through my lifetime of inquiries, i've come to believe that people are comfortable with what they know. even if what they know is terrible. for example, i've been subjected to various forms of abuse throughout most of my life. it sucks, and it's unhealthy, and it's done some serious psychological damage. however, it is what i know. people feel as though they can handle what they know, even if it's awful, better than they can handle what they don't know, regardless of how good that unknown may turn out to be. i know how to handle being hurt. i don't know how to handle being treated like a human being.

the same goes for apocalyptic circumstances. in our -- okay, specifically my -- society, people are told that humans are greedy. that the person with the most stuff is either the best or the happiest or something similar, and therefore you, too, should do everything in your power to acquire the MOST of...something. seek out the american dream, even if it is at the expense of someone else. in my society, that 'something' is money. gotta love capitalism. people hear this, and they internalize it -- much the way i internalized that people are not to be trusted. (for further reading on the power of internalized ideas, read huxley's brave new world. or orwell's 1984. preferably both.) these are the ideas that they know. therefore, when something happens that poses a threat to the populous...say, a deadly illness infects the masses...people react the way in which they are comfortable. the way they know. capitalism -- god bless it -- breeds a populous that seeks out the satiation of its own needs and no one else's. you look out for yourself.

this thought makes me depressed. yes, i recognize that things happen in real life, not just the movies, which appear to be the result of human nature in its raw form. that is, uninhibited selfishness and protectiveness of oneself. 'survival mode,' we call it.

but, that can change. i do not believe for a second that all humans are innately greedy and violent. i don't pretend to know what humans are, innately. but i do believe that whatever is instinctive in the human race can be overridden, so to speak. that, even if humans are truly selfish by nature, they can learn to be otherwise.

BUT WAIT! you say. THIS SOUNDS LIKE COMMUNIST PROPAGANDA! YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BRAINWASHING! perhaps. when it comes from communists, it's called brainwashing. when it comes from christians, it's called finding jesus. americans are fickle, that way. nevertheless, the principle remains. i believe people are capable of being kind. of looking out for one another, even under the most difficult of circumstances. i believe that people can come to realize that instead of a disparity within a community wherein each individual looks out for only him/herself, the needs of all can be met when all are looking out for the needs of one another. it may be an elephantine task to undertake. it isn't probable, and will be met with so much resistance that its efforts may be crushed -- forever labeling it as something to be feared and persecuted. (hello. let us look at the way the united stated views...oh...marxism. or, today's communist project, cuba.) still. i think humans are capable of love and compassion over hatred and greed. they just need some assistance in realizing that.

you may say i'm a dreamer. but i'm not the only one. i hope, someday, you will join us.

bye for now.

29 April 2012

must be funny in a rich man's world.

i am opinionated. i have this need to express my opinions on most any issue. i also have a need to express my disagreement when around people whose opinions differ from mine.

the typical venue for these instances is wednesday lunch with my grandparents. my dad's parents and brother go out to lunch once a week, and i get to join. we're the wednesday lunch bunch. adorable, i know. my grandparents claim to be libertarian, though they're definitely more socially conservative than the term 'libertarian' allows. my uncle is a venture capitalist, though more socially liberal. i'm an anarcho-communist. this makes for interesting discussion. whether we're discussing budget cuts, the occupy movement, or worldwide elections, there is always debate to be had. i love this, because it gives me a chance to show that i can intelligently express my opinions at the grown-up table. though i know there is no hope in persuading any of my relatives to hold the opinions i do, they can see my points, and i can make attempts to see theirs. all in all, it's a fairly civil affair.

i have 'adopted' family, as well. though i don't love them as family, my mother and my brothers do. i tag along, and try to play nice. this family is a fairly conservative bunch. today, we were discussing the measures (or lack thereof) being taken by congress in regard to the impending raise in interest rates for student loans. one individual made a comment about how people who live off of student loans deserve to have the higher interest rate. "i'm the one paying the money for those loans. i don't want people spending them on car payments and mortgages. go get a job."

i was floored by this comment. i'm a college student. i have a job. i don't work full time, because i cannot commit fully to my academic career while also having to commit to a full-time job. federal grants pay my tuition, but i still have to pay for living expenses. while some people manage to make things work via grants and a part-time job, i'm not. i could, i guess, if i cut back. but more than half of what i earn each month goes toward rent, utilities, and other charges from my apartment complex. the rest of the money is spent on food, school costs, gas, and medical bills. mostly food and medical bills. sometimes i eat less and buy myself new underwear.

my expenses are relatively small, compared to other people i know. i don't have a car payment. i don't have a mortgage. i don't have kids. i'm not paying tuition. also, i'm not the most savvy spender. frugality is not one of my virtues. but i think of the students i know, whose expenses exceed mine. i think about what they do with their student loan money. there is no way that, without student loans, these people could get by. i know very few students who do not have jobs. it just isn't feasible for students to pay all their expenses on student-friendly jobs alone. some people reconcile this by taking fewer credit hours, and working full-time while going to school part-time. some stop going to school in order to earn money and make ends meet, with the intention to some day return to school when they can pay tuition in cash. some take out student loans. you do what you need to, in order to make sure you have lodging, food, transportation, relatively clean clothing, and the materials/resources necessary to be a successful student.

i mean no disrespect to my 'adopted' family. its members manage to make things work, somehow. but, life isn't as easy as 'go get a job' and then BAM! you're able to make all your ends meet without going into debt. i began to express this opinion, when i was shushed by my mother, who later told me that "it isn't a big deal. it isn't important. you need to calm down." but it is. it IS a big deal. it IS important. disagreeing with my 'aunt's' opinion is not reason to tell me to calm down. let me say my peace. let me attempt to understand why this woman, who has three grown children, struggling to make ends meet, thinks that people should be punished financially for trying to obtain an education. that's really all i want. to try and understand her point of view.

and, suddenly, i became very grateful for my wednesday lunch bunch, and the opportunities they provide me to express my opinions, and engage in constructive conversation. that i'm speaking with people who take me and my ideals seriously, even if they don't agree with them.

bye for now.

28 April 2012

to see if i still feel.

this is a post about self-harm.

i don't know if any of you have self-harmed. i have struggled with various forms of self-harm for...twelve...thirteen years now. i've cut, bitten, scratched, burned, binged, purged, starved, pill-popped, hit, and done other things to myself that i'll leave out of this list. people self-harm for a variety of reasons. if you have ever done it, you know that your own reasons are not always the same. if you've never done it, the whole phenomenon can be incredibly difficult to understand.

but, that is for another discussion.

this discussion is about how, after almost thirteen years, i still struggle with the urge to hurt myself. almost daily. and, some days, that urge is too enticing to resist.

at that point, i become overwhelmed with this insane amount of guilt. 'i'm so stupid. why did i do this. i'm absolutely pathetic. worthless. awful excuse for a human being.' yes, i say those things to myself. yes, in that moment, i believe those things. and this fuels the cycle. makes me feel like i deserve more pain. like i'm punishing myself for being...pathetic. worthless. a poor excuse for a human being.

some times, other people help me to realize -- typically, inadvertently -- that people sometimes make less-than-brilliant decisions. but, the way to deal with those moments is not to fixate on how stupid it was to make those decisions. instead, you just try again. just. try. again.

seems so easy. 'k, yeah. i just sliced myself open. but it's okay. i'm just gonna try to find a better way to cope with my emotions in the future.'

is that really all there is to it?

bye for now.

27 April 2012

i would be the sunlight in your universe.

i love eric clapton. not only is he a musical mastermind, and quite possibly the greatest guitarist of all time, but the lyrics in the songs he sings...ahem...speak to me.

i have a list of excerpts from songs i love, the first being from an eric clapton song i've had stuck in my head today. perhaps you know which songs these excerpts are from? here they be:
  • if i could change the world, i would be the sunlight in your universe.
  • can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken, your best friend always sticking up for you -- even when you know you're wrong? can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried, romance, five-hour phone conversations...
  • lose the earthquakes, keep the faults. fill the oceans, without the salt. let every man own his own hand. can you dig it, baby? what kind of world do you want? think...anything. let's start at the start, build a masterpiece. be careful what you wish for.
  • let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words.
  • there's only now. there's only here. give in to love, or live in fear. no other path, no other way. no day but today.
  • there's more to love than only bitterness and lies.
  • i'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.
  • i cannot grow old in salem's lot.
  • we're all stars now, in the dope show.
  • what if this whole crusade's a charade, and behind it all there's a price to be paid for the blood which we dine, justified in the name of the holy and the divine?
  • this is me, pretending this is all i need.
  • you sit there, in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways. you play forgiveness. watch it now: here he comes. he doesn't look a thing like jesus, but he talks like a gentleman...like you imagined, when you were young.
  • relax, said the nightman. we are programmed to receive. you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
  • (this is my favorite love song.) the very thought of you, and i forget to do the little ordinary things everyone ought to do. i'm living in a kind of daydream. i'm happy as a queen. and, foolish though it may seem, to me it's everything. the mere idea of you. the longing here for you. you never know how slow the moments go, oh, until i'm near to you. i see your face in every flower, your eyes in the stars above. it's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.
yes. that is all, for the time-being.

bye for now.

25 April 2012

even angels have their wicked schemes.

what? multiple blog posts in one day? yes. i have a lot on my mind. all summed up in lyrics written by the talented eminem.

before i begin, i want to make it known that i have nothing against people who want children. or who have children. mkay.

i don't want children. i can picture myself as a mom. i have the mormon-mom hips that are great for supporting boxes as you carry them across parking lots, as well as holding little kids. i have this need to be nurturing. but, i don't want kids.

i've been thinking a lot lately about the reasons why i don't want children. are they selfish? yes. though, i'm more than happy to argue about the selfishness of child-bearing and rearing, if you'd like to listen, sometime.

these reasons are listed in no particular order.

first reason: i've already helped to raise kids. my dad died when i was nine. my mom was six months pregnant with my youngest brother, at the time. my other two brothers were six and 21 months. i stopped being a kid the summer before my dad died, and was suddenly this sibling/parent hybrid. my relationships with my brothers have become increasingly more complicated as they've gotten older. but, for awhile, i was the other 'parent.'

second reason: i don't want to bring more children into the world. yeah, sure, it'd be great to look at my kids and be like, hey. those are my cute shoulder dimples. but, i don't want that badly enough to bring more children into the world. there are so many kids, already, who are in need of loving homes and families. my bleeding heart can't justify bringing more children into the world instead of helping out the children who are already here. thus, if i ever do decide that i want kids, i will probably adopt.

third reason: i do not want to be my mom. i love my mom with all my heart. i do. but, sometimes, i see bits of her personality surface in mine. my childhood was filled with a lot of guilt and manipulation. i don't want to pass that on to another generation.

fourth reason: i have my heart set on a career in academia. there are women in academia who manage to do it. who manage to be both mothers and professors. but, i don't want my children to grow up angry that i was giving a lecture on Foucault's Panopticism and missed their soccer game or choir concert. i'm not going to bring children into circumstances for which i know they will grow up resenting me.

fifth reason: this is probably the most important reason, for me. i have an aunt. lynn. lynn is one of my favorite people on the planet. my liberal beliefs were founded at an early age, with influence -- albeit unintentional on her part -- from lynn. lynn is the only other member of my family, on either my mom's or my dad's side, who is not an active member of the lds faith. she has two kids. for a few years, she raised them as jewish. as in, the kids went to hebrew school and whatnot. now, she's implementing ideas of openness toward and respect for all religious beliefs, though actively advocating none. yet, my grandparents are trying to teach lynn's boys the 'right way.' whenever they're alone with the boys, they teach them primary songs. about various tenets of gospel doctrine. they were teaching the youngest how to pray, last time i was with them.

the lds faith is one that instills into the hearts and minds of its believers that eternal sadness and disappointment awaits those who do not obey. the biggest threat? that you will not be able to be with your family. the way this is most effectively carried out is by telling you that the rest of your family will make it to heaven -- well, technically, the highest degree of the celestial kingdom -- and your unfaithfulness will result in you being separated from them for eternity. won't that be devastating? i fretted for years and years about not being a doubter because my dad was dead, and i really wanted there to be another life in which my family was whole, once again. my grandparents have the same desire -- that is, for their family to be whole. however, they recognize that, according to their faith, their daughter will not be able to join them. but this doesn't mean that it's too late for her kids.

i don't want that. i don't want to take my kids to family gatherings and have them bombarded with propaganda from my grandparents, my mother, my siblings, and whomever else. i don't want to have to explain that i am the cause of a large amount grief in the lives of the people i love, because they don't think i will be able to spend eternity in joyfulness with them. and, moreover, i don't know that i could handle it, if my children did decide that they wanted to join the faith. i don't know that i could bear that look of sadness in the eyes of my mom, when i tell her i'm not currently interested in attending the temple, appearing in the eyes of my children, as well.

finally, i feel like bringing children into the world is about leaving the world a little bit better than it was when you entered it. and, i feel like i can do that most effectively through means other than being a parent.

there you go. my diatribe. all selfish reasons. perhaps paltry, as well. but my reasons, nonetheless.

bye for now.

don't let 'em say you ain't beautiful.

i've always been the ugly duckling.

as a little girl, i remember being very annoyed when people would talk about how much i looked like my father. i didn't want to look like my dad. i wanted his personality, or what my six-year-old brain chose to see as his personality. but, he was a boy. i didn't want to look like a boy. we all look like my dad, my brothers and myself. there is no mistaking that my brothers and i are siblings -- which is fine, because they're cute kids. i, however, stopped being 'cute' around Fall of '99. all i wanted, at that point, was to be pretty. in a way, that's still all i want. to be pretty and well-liked. perhaps loved, by someone. anyway.

i have no sisters. instead, i have surrogate sisters, in the form of cousins. i have four of said cousins: chel, jill, enz, and marie. all of them are beautiful. each time i see them, i am reminded of how i am the odd-woman-out. which would be fine, i guess, if i had something else to offer. if i were the smart one. except, chel and marie are both brilliant, sophisticated women. both know french, as well. perhaps, if i were the fun one. nope. enz is the most easy-going, fun-loving person. jill is a partier.

the women on my mom's side of the family have a book club. we meet once every three months, or so. i went to book club this past saturday. chel was there. normally, i actively participate in literary discussions. i am, after all, a literature major. however, i didn't read the book we were discussing. so, instead, i found myself staring at chel, thinking about how much i would love to be as beautiful and brilliant and sophisticated as she is. on top of that, she's witty and fun.

life would be so great, if i were beautiful and brilliant and sophisticated and witty and fun.

instead, i'm...me. shy and awkward and intellectually masochistic and verging on neurotic.

lovely.

bye for now.

21 April 2012

cut my wrists and black my eyes.

hi. i'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. her name is sylvia.

yes. i like sylvia plath. yes. this is incredibly cliché.

there is still a thirteen-year-old emo girl inside of me who listens to death metal and reads nothing but poetry.

deal with it.

i would like to provide you with some of the lovely things my dear friend sylvia wrote:
  • let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
  • can you understand? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? for all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that -- i love life. but it is hard, and i have so much -- so very much to learn.
  • and when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter -- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
  • i like people too much or not at all. i've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
  • i have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love i feel in me, and give back as good as i give.
  • remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. live it, feel it, cling to it. i want to become acutely aware of all i've taken for granted.
  • perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
  • i can never read all the books i want; i can never be all the people i want and live all the lives i want. i can never train myself in all the skills i want. and why do i want? i want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. and i am horribly limited.
there you go. pardon my lack of official citation.

bye for now.

20 April 2012

when i say, 'it's okay.'

i should be outlining a paper on attitudes toward motherhood in anna karenina, but there is something i need to get off my chest.

i have a really bad habit of flirting with pretty much any girl with whom i become good friends. it's been this way since junior high. 8th grade, to be precise, when i started becoming honest with myself about my sexual orientation. i've always seen it as harmless banter between friends. among my straight, bi and lesbian girl friends alike, there was flirting, joking about being 'lovers,' and so on. occasionally, there was cuddling during movies, hand-holding and the like, but there have only been a few instances where anything has escalated past that point.

now, i do not have an assertive, dominant personality, by any means. but, if the atmosphere is safe and playful enough, i can engage in reciprocal witticisms and euphemisms. i can play the tease, on occasion.

but i digress.

i, like most human beings, enjoy attention. however, i do not enjoy all attention.  i scare easily. any attention from men i do not know generally comes across as being potentially hostile. this is a defense mechanism i have acquired from years of receiving unwanted attention from people who have threatened to, or have, hurt me. now, i've had guy friends who have complained to me about how women cry "sexual harassment" anytime they please, and the guy is defenseless against the accusations. i recognize that this does happen.

nevertheless.

sexual harassment is a serious issue. i, being the scaredy-cat that i am, have never formally reported any harassment that i've received. but it happens. ALL THE TIME. and it isn't okay. it isn't flattering to have people make obscene gestures in my direction, or bump into me and get handsy, or call me names. seeing me flirt with a coworker does not give you license to join in, or make comments. wearing v-neck tees isn't an invitation for you to stare down my shirt while i clean tables. (i'm citing work incidents, here, because i don't go many places anymore, and these things happen at work all the time.) i don't stare at your crotch and try to figure out your size. stop staring at my tits and trying to figure out mine. if you want to know so badly, ask me. and i'll either tell you or tell you to fuck off. but that's my prerogative, because it's my body. and attention is great, but on my terms. things are okay when I SAY they're okay. "being a douchebag, asshole, or creeper" appears nowhere on my list of things that are okay. if you're gonna comment, use tact. if you're going to stare, be discreet. and, for the love of all that is good in this world, do not touch me.

not like blogging about it changes the situation at all. but hey. a person needs to vent, sometimes.

bye for now.

18 April 2012

mama.

i'd like to tell you about my mom.

my relationship with my mom has always been very complicated. but, for the purposes of this post, i will stick to more positive things.

when i was seven, i had growing pains. during the day, i didn't notice these pains. however, when it came time to go to sleep, the pain would bring me to tears. my mom thought this was awfully convenient, since i had a habit of finding ways to get out of going to sleep at my scheduled bedtime. she made this known. but. my mom used to come downstairs and sit on the edge of my bed, and try to massage the pain away.

i was thinking about this last night. i've been having growing pains again, though it's doubtful that i will get any taller. i couldn't sleep, because my legs hurt so badly. and all i could think of was how i wanted my mom to come into my room, sit on the edge of my bed, and somehow make the pain go away.

no matter what goes on between us, whenever life gets messy, or i'm sick or in pain, or hurt in some other way, all i want is for my mom to give me a hug. let me cry. tell me it's going to be okay. despite what her opinion is on the situation, my mom possesses some magical power that makes the world seem less scary.

maybe that's why, as my anxiety has worsened, i've opted to spend weekends at my mom's house. maybe.

i text my mom all the time. i call her almost every day. i go home almost every weekend. sometimes, i send her emails while she's at work, with links to songs or with pictures attached. because i can. i don't tell her everything, because there are some things she doesn't need to know. some things she doesn't need to worry about. but we're close, in a weird sort of way.

my family means the world to me. we're an interesting bunch, with idiosyncrasies that don't mesh very nicely. we don't always get along. we drive each other insane. but. the first place i want to be, when i'm feeling less-than-stellar, is with them.

just so you know.

bye for now.

16 April 2012

these words are my diary, screaming out loud.

i'm going to be honest. i don't know how many people read this blog. if i had to make a guess, i would say...three. two of whom i talk to on a regular basis, and who get to hear all about the craziness that is me and my life. the third is my beloved friend, ami, whom i'd marry -- if she weren't already hitched. i miss you ami!

anyway. if you're tired of reading about my struggle to stay afloat...part of me wants to apologize, but i'm not going to. i'm working on focusing on more positive things. on trying to chill. on getting out of bed and doing things. but, i do need to talk, sometimes, about the things going on inside my head. and though they may seem trite to you, they are very real, very scary, and very overwhelming to me. and as much as i'd love to wake up one morning and use my newly-found positive outlook on life to slay the dragons, it isn't that easy. i'd love for it to be, and i used to think that it was. that's how i ended up here, where i am now. by not taking seriously the things going on in my brain. and whether those things are caused by genetic predisposition to mental illness, a brain tumor, a lifetime of poor sleeping habits, awful coping strategies, placebo effect, or a combination of any/all of the above -- what causes all of it isn't what matters. what does matter is that, occasionally, it's nice to have someone to talk to about everything. that's a lot to ask of a person, which is why i started blogging again. then, it's left up to the reader's discretion, whether they choose to read the goings-on of my thought train.

this is where i come to breathe. i feel more calm after writing and publishing a new post than i do after any other activity. baking comes close, but blogging still wins that contest. i am incredibly grateful that there are people, however few in number they may be, who are interested in reading what i write. and i don't want to chase anyone away. i respect that people have their own opinions on what i am going through. that is your prerogative, and i will not impose upon that. i do ask, in return, that you continue to have patience with me. i hear, all the time, that there are simple answers to my problems. some people tell me that those answers are in diving head-first to face my fears. others tell me that the answers are in god. and if you say to me that you have answers, i am more than willing to listen. but. please. understand that there are things you cannot and do not know. about where i have been. about what is going on inside my head. about the demons with which i am grappling.

and, please, understand that i mean no disrespect. i figure that if you didn't care about my well-being, you wouldn't comment at all.

i appreciate that there are people who care about my well-being.

i'm in for a rough summer. and i hope you will join me for the ride. if nothing else, i promise there will be entertaining stories in which i survive a mosquito attack at a soccer game, or injure myself getting into a vehicle, or send people screaming because i'm wearing shorts. but i am taking steps to gain control of my life. it will be terrifying and exhilarating, i'm sure. there will be a lot of reading, and baking. hopefully, some intriguing family gatherings, as well. i plan on there being good days. but i also know there will be not-so-good ones. i hope you'll understand that i will share both.

these are my words. and i hope you'll continue to read them.

bye for now.